Picture Perfect
by WildcatLizzie83
Summary: After all the things he's hunted, Dean discovers that there's nothing scarier than childbirth. AU. One-shot. Dean/OFC.


**Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters belong to Eric Kripke, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, this is solely for entertainment purposes. Please don't sue me. I'm a poor college student who has no money anyway.

**--**

The late May sun beat down on Dean's denim clad legs. He was working under the Impala which was rolled out in the driveway.

The driveway.

Man, he still got a kick out of that. If someone would've told him ten years ago that he'd have a nine-to-five, a wife, and a baby on the way, he would've splashed some Holy water on them just to be safe. But Sammy had been right; this apple pie life wasn't so bad.

He and Sam would occasionally hit the road when something big and bad made itself known. It was surprising, though, how easy it was to put the Job on the back burner. Yet once they had realized that having a family aside from each other was worth the risk, there was hardly any question or trepidation about it. They both preferred to stay close to home, spend time with their wives and, in Sam's case, play with the kids.

He pulled himself forward and rolled out from underneath the car. He stood up and grabbed the rag that hung from his back pocket to wipe the grease from his hands.

"Dean?" his wife called out to him from the back of the garage.

"Yeah?" he called back, bending over the open hood of the car.

"Babe, we gotta go," she said, her voice closer now.

"Go where?" he asked, turning his head to look at her. He took a moment to admire her swollen belly before turning back to the carburetor that was giving him some trouble.

"To the hospital; my water broke," she replied.

Forgetting where he was, he shot straight up, smacking the back of his head on the hood of the car.

"Son of a bitch!" he shouted, grabbing the back of his head.

She took his head in her hands and tried to examine his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, squinting at her.

"Yeah, I'm sure. The contractions are about eight minutes apart now," she told him, her voice still calm. "However, I can't tell if I need to call an ambulance if you don't fully open your eyes for me."

He slowly opened his eyes for her. She peered into them critically for a moment before holding up three fingers. "How many?"

"Definitely three," he told her. "Marrying an ER doc was undoubtedly the wisest decision of my life."

She made a sound of vague agreement as he kissed her cheek.

"Maybe," she replied, handing him the keys to her Explorer, "but ER doc or not, we've still got to go."

"Yeah – right," he said, slamming down the hood of the Impala.

--

_The swinging ambulance bay doors slammed open as the paramedics rushed a new patient in. One was holding up a saline drip, another straddled the man's waist while applying continual pressure to the femoral artery, two more moved along side, steering the gurney into the ER._

"_What've we got?" Isabella Taylor asked, snapping on vinyl gloves._

"_Male, 28, massive blood loss; he lost consciousness en route. BP is 85 over 60; heart rate is weak, but steady," one said, handing a clip board to her so that she could sign the paperwork, officially making the patient their responsibility._

"_Don't just stand there! Make yourselves useful!" she snapped at her interns._

"_You family?" she asked turning her attention to the man covered in blood and white as a sheet._

"_Yeah – yes. He's my brother," Sam replied, easily looking over her shoulder at the organized chaos around his brother._

"_Do you know what happened?" she asked._

_His eyes flicked down to hers for the briefest moment before focusing again on his brother. "Dogs," he whispered._

"_What's his name?" she said her voice softer, calmer as if she were placating a toddler._

"_Dean," he told her. "His name is Dean."_

--

He helped her into the passenger seat and pulled out his cell phone to call Sam. His sister-in-law picked up the phone as he turned the ignition. "Sarah? Izzie's in labor; we're on our way to Mercy General… See you there."

He hung up and took a quick glance at his wife before turning his attention back to the road. Her eyes were closed and her hands rested atop her belly; she was breathing deep – in through the nose and out through the mouth just like they had practiced.

"You okay, Iz?" he asked, taking her hand into his.

She nodded. "I'm good," she answered, squeezing his hand and letting out a _whoosh_ of air as the next contraction hit her.

Twenty minutes later she was changed into a hospital gown and was staring straight ahead at the wall, her arms folded across her chest. Dean was sitting in the bedside chair, aggressively picking at imaginary lint on his pant leg.

A knock on the doorjamb brought both of them out of their brooding. Sam walked in, looking like he wanted to hug everyone within arm's reach. "Sorry we didn't get here sooner, but we had to drop Caden and Abby off at a neighbor's," he told them.

Sarah followed Sam in with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. Picking up on the tension in the room much quicker than her husband, Sarah went over and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Isabella's hand and kissing her cheek.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked out of the corner of his mouth, hoping to remain discreet to their astute wives.

"No idea!" Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and standing up.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's outburst; so much for subtlety. Sarah immediately stood up and walked over to stand in front of him her hands on her hips.

"What?" Dean shouted, clearly frustrated.

"You're shouting," Sarah pointed out, her voice remaining calm.

"I know!"

Sarah reached out and grabbed him by his shoulders. "Deep breaths, Dean," she told him, shaking him a bit. "Shouting is not what she needs right now; she needs you to be supportive."

"I was!"

Sarah cut him off by shoving him towards Sam. "Go take a walk, calm down."

Dean crossed the room in several long strides with Sam close behind him.

Once in the waiting room, Sam took a seat while Dean paced back and forth in front of him.

"Dude, what'd you say to her?" Sam asked.

Dean stopped abruptly and looked at him incredulously. "What makes you think I said something?" He was still shouting.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him and that was exactly what Dean needed for the frustration to leave him. He sat down heavily in the chair next to his brother and sighed.

"I told her that childbirth can't be that bad compared to some of the things that you and I have faced," he said.

"Not good, man," Sam replied, shaking his head.

"I thought I was being supportive by telling her that there are worse things out there than having a kid," he said.

--

_Isabella pulled her bathrobe tightly around her as she groggily made her way to the door of her apartment. Whoever was on the other side of her door was growing impatient; even at three-thirty in the morning._

_She was blinded momentarily by the bright lights in the hallway of her apartment building as she swung her door open to give whoever it was hell for dragging her butt out of bed. She recognized his voice before she even saw his face._

"_Isa – Dr. Taylor, I really don't have time to explain everything, but I've really got to get you out of here," Dean told her, his features tight and concerned._

"_Dean? What are you…" before she could finish her question, a force unseen by her, pulled her back into the dark apartment and slammed the door in Dean's face._

"_So this is what you do, huh?" Isabella asked while stitching up a deep wound over Dean's eyebrow._

"_The pay is crap, but this gig certainly isn't without its perks," he told her, a self assured grin spreading across his face._

"_Is that right?" she asked, cutting off the excess string from his sutures._

"_How else am I supposed to meet beautiful doctors who'll fix me up and then let me take them to bed after saving them from a nasty poltergeist?" he replied, his smile now verging on cocky._

"_Tell me, Dean," she said softly, leaning into his personal space, her warm breath brushing against his ear. "You talk real big and all, but the real question is, can you walk the walk, too?" she taunted, punctuating her challenge by nipping at his earlobe._

"_Sweetheart, you've got no idea what you're getting yourself into," he answered. In one swift motion he was out of his chair and kissing her while she pulled him into the bedroom._

--

"Do you even know what happens during childbirth?" Sam asked. "It's really rather incredible."

"No," Dean replied firmly, shaking his head, "and I don't want to know. I don't care how incredible it is. I don't care if she can push something the size of a watermelon out of a…" he stopped and shuddered. "What I do care about is the female body remaining aesthetically pleasing."

"Well, you're going to be in there, aren't you?" Sam asked, trying hard not to laugh at his brother's anxiety.

"If she lets me back in the room," Dean said, sighing heavily. "It's just that nothing from her shoulders down will exist until everything is back to normal."

Sam finally allowed himself to laugh as Sarah joined them out in the waiting room. Dean jumped to his feet and looked at her earnestly.

"She's asking for you," she told him. She put a hand on his chest to stop him before he could take off. She pointed an authoritative finger at him and looked him in the eye. "No more yelling; she doesn't need that kind of stress right now, even from you."

"Thank you," Dean told her, pulling her into a tight hug. He turned back around to face his brother with one arm still wrapped around Sarah's shoulders.

"This little lady's amazing amounts of awesome is _exactly _why I told you to just shut up and marry her already," Dean said, grinning broadly.

"Yeah. Right," Sam replied skeptically, nodding his head to humor his brother.

Dean turned back to Sarah and shook her slightly while laughing a bit hysterically before kissing her cheek and taking off down the hallway. He was going to be a dad.

All of his joy, though, was sucked out of him at the thought of Isabella not accepting his apology and kicking him out of the room. He hesitantly walked into the room to find her on her side with her eyes shut tight as she breathed through another contraction. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took one of her hands into his while he brushed the hair away from her face with the other.

Her grip on his hand loosened and she opened her eyes. "I'm sorry for being hormonal," she told him softly.

"I'm sorry for being ignorant," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

--

_"For the love of_ God, _Dean, could you turn that down?" Isabella shouted from the second floor landing._

_They'd been married for two years now, and she was beginning to think that there was never going to be a good compromise as to when it was appropriate to play Led Zeppelin at top volume throughout the house._

_When she didn't get a response, she sighed heavily and made her way down the stairs. Usually, after working the graveyard shift she would be sound asleep by the time her head hit the pillow regardless of what Dean was up to. Last night had been especially rough, but instead of sleeping she kept reliving the night, one patient after another._

_She found him on the couch, looking through a detailed manual for one of the vintage cars that he was restoring at the garage. She angrily snatched up the remote for the stereo and turned it off._

_"Hey!" Dean protested, looking up at her._

_"I'm trying to sleep," she explained, trying to ease the edge in her voice._

_"Well, it usually doesn't bother you," he countered, standing up and trying to take the remote back from her.  
_

_She moved the hand that was holding the remote behind her back, trying to keep it out of his reach. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe just sometimes it_ does _bother me?" she snapped, her voice rising._

_"How am I supposed to know when it_ does _bother you?" he asked, his voice also rising to match hers._

_"Maybe you just shouldn't play the music so fucking loud!" she shouted._

_"God, is it that time of the month already?" he remarked dryly._

_"Typical, Dean; real typical," she snipped, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. "Any time I get even the tiniest amount of emotional or upset or just plain pissed off, you immediately assume that I'm on my period!"_

_"Well, are you?" he asked, bracing himself for impact whether it's verbal or physical. He'd taught her how to throw a decent punch and damn if she wasn't good at it._

_"No!" she yelled, taking a step towards him, but then thought better of it. She turned and paced for a moment before turning to face him again. "God, Dean, sometimes I just don't understand how you can be so dense."_

_"I'm stubborn as a mule, what can I say?" he chided, outstretching his arms. "Its part of the package, baby; what's your excuse?"_

_"You really want to play that game?" she asked in disbelief. "Well, I'm pregnant and I'm pretty sure that means I win," she finished, throwing the remote back onto the couch._

_All traces of annoyance left Dean's face and were instantly replaced with joy. He was laughing as he picked her up and spun her around. The nausea that she'd been fighting for the last week came rushing back as she watched the room around her spin._

_"Stop," she told him, "put me down."_

_For once Dean did as he was told. He watched, concerned, as she closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest._

_"You okay?" he asked, stroking her back._

_She nodded and pulled herself closer to him. "This really wasn't the way that I wanted to tell you," she admitted. "I was trying to think of something cute, but it was too late for Father's Day and too early for Christmas or your birthday, so I was kind of stuck."_

_"Hey," he said, pulling back so that he could look at her. "This may have been unconventional, but it was perfect, and it fits right along with the rest of our lives."_

--

Sarah settled herself into the seat next to Sam while taking his hand into hers and resting her head against his shoulder.

"He's going to be a good dad," she said after a while.

"Yeah, he is," he agreed, "as long as he's got Izzie to balance him out."

"'Cause Lord knows you Winchester men would be lost without a good woman with a sound head on her shoulders," she teased.

"Hey, the three of us did just fine after Mom was gone," he defended.

"Hunting evil? With a full arsenal in the back of the Impala?" she countered. "Yeah, that just _screams_ normal; I have no idea what I was thinking."

They sat in silence for a moment, the implications of Sarah's words hanging in the air.

"You're a wonderful dad, though, Sam, despite the lifestyle that you were brought up in," she told him, kissing his cheek. "And seeing as how Dean was a big part of your upbringing, I can honestly say that he's going to be a great father; you're proof of that."

Sam looked down at her and smiled before pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

Dean managed his way into the small hospital bed next to Izzie, who was pressed up against him while she slept. He rubbed her belly whenever he felt the baby kick and muttered nonsense in the baby's general direction as they waited.

Isabella stirred when her doctor entered the room to check in on her. "How are we doing, Isabella?" the doctor asked, examining both the maternal and fetal heart rate monitors.

"I'm good," she replied as Dean got off the bed and allowed her to roll back over onto her back. "The resting stage is over, I can feel it."

"That's good, you're progressing nicely, then," the doctor said, flipping the paper sheet back over Isabella's knees to examine her. "You're fully dilated, Isabella," Dr. Greene continued. "What'd'ya say? You ready to become a mom?"

She looked back up at Dean and smiled while giving his hand a squeeze. "Absolutely."

Dean has always known that Isabella was a screamer, but right now his ears were practically ringing. Her more violent outbursts were directed towards him and the rest of the general male population, but the nurse had assured him that it was only the pain talking.

"You're doing great, Isabella," Dr. Greene spoke up from his position between her legs.

"You hear that, Iz?" Dean asked, wiping her brow with a washcloth. "You're doing great. You're amazing." He looked up at a nurse for reassurance who gave him a slight nod and a wink. Apparently he was doing great, too.

"We're in the home stretch here, Isabella," the doctor told her. "The head's just about fully crowned."

"The head's crowning?" she asked breathlessly. "I wanna see."

"See?" Dean asked, confused.

She nodded her head, looking at something just beyond her knees. He followed her gaze to where one of the nurses had angled a mirror just right to reflect what could be seen of the baby's head.

"Oh God," Dean muttered, the color draining from his face.

"Falling husband," one of the nurses announced.

Thankfully, they had such a well-oiled machine going here, that one of the nurses was right behind him with a chair as his knees gave out.

"One more big push, Isabella, that's all we need," Dr. Greene said.

"Almost there, baby, you can do it," Dean said encouragingly, taking her hand in his as he stood back up on shaky legs.

Moments later, Dr. Greene stood up holding a bloody, goopy, writhing mess of baby. Add that to the list of things Dean would've splashed holy water on ten years ago. Hell, even ten _minutes_ ago.

"Would you like to cut the umbilical cord, Dad?" the doctor asked, holding out the baby to him while the nurse handed him an umbilical cord clamp.

After cutting where instructed, he watched as they took the baby to the other side of the room before looking back to Isabella who was positively beaming. He brushed the hair away from her face as he leaned down to kiss her.

"I love you," he told her before kissing her again.

"I love you, too," she replied.

"Mr. and Mrs. Winchester, you are the parents of a beautiful baby girl," a nurse said, walking over with the baby. "Ten fingers, ten toes," she said, placing the baby in Isabella's arms.

"Hello, beautiful," Isabella cooed, a few tears falling from her eyes. "Samantha Christine Winchester, I am so happy to finally meet you."

"Hey, princess," Dean muttered when Isabella handed him the baby as Sam and Sarah knocked on the door before entering the room.

Sam walked over to Dean and clapped him on the back before looking down at his niece.

"This is your geek Uncle Sam," Dean introduced. "I thought it'd be funny to name you Samantha because I could call you Sammy, too. That way, I can watch him make the face he does when he's annoyed. But it really just looks like he's constipated," he finished conspiratorially.

"If it weren't for the baby, your ass would be on the floor right now," Sam told him.

"Yeah, right," Dean countered. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam replied.

"Sam, we better go," Sarah said, walking over. "They all need to get their rest."

"See you tomorrow, munchkin," Sam said, kissing the baby's forehead.

"Congratulations, Dean," Sarah said, reaching up and kissing his cheek.

They both waved good-bye before heading out the door.

"Your mommy is an incredible lady, she's saved my life more than once," he told Samantha, looking up to smile at Isabella who moved over enough so that Dean could get back up on the bed. He handed her the baby and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Just so you know," Dean continued in soft tones, "I'm going to scare off any boy that you try to bring home. Eventually your mom and aunt will gang up on me, and I'll give in. Your uncle and I, though, will still be waiting on the porch with shotguns for good measure."

He was silenced by a poke to his ribs from Isabella.

"Shh," she hushed. "We've got a whole lifetime to go before we get to that."


End file.
